Magic's return
by Galeginho
Summary: Magic has returned to a chaotic Faerun in need of Mystra and her new Chosen. The seven Chosen will descover the many different manifestation of Her powers and how they can be used to change the outcome of the fight of good versus evil...
1. The Awakening of a Goddess

**Disclaimer: **Any characters, place names or abilities recognized are from Forgotten Realms, in particular Elaine Cunninghan and Ed Greenwood. The rest is mine. And now to the story...

The Awakening of a Goddess

_Here lies Olympus, a once beautiful place where all the avatars of the different people that make Faerun lives. Now a desolate place, where Cyric the Mad controls this barren land with Malar, the Great Hunter, and Maglubiyet, the leader of the goblinkin's gods, scouring the lands for those who opposed His rule._

_Here lies Arvandor, a once great forest where trees grow good and is ruled with fairness by Lord Corellon and Lady Angharradh. Now a dark place ruled by the tyranny of Llolth, the spider-goddess of the drow, and the Darklord Corell, the former Lord Corellon, trying to destroy what is left of the elf-pantheon._

_Here lies the Ashgrad, a once fair city where the avatars of humankind reigned as lords, where Tyr god of justice would welcome all deities from all pantheons. Now left in ruins as an ageing fortress where few are welcomed. Here lies the sole possession of good in this ocean of destruction and darkness._

_It is here, in this light in the middle of grey where our story of change starts… A knock astounds the few remaining avatars of humankind. Tempos, the god of war, reached the highest tower to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was trying to enter the city. He was thinking it would be one of Cyric's minions, trying to take this fortress with the sole reason that as an acolyte of the lord of this land he could take whatever he wants for himself._

_What a shock he got when instead of a beastlord there was the form of a tall woman, leaning on the door her breathing weak. Tempus hesitated, many of his avatar brethren had fallen for such tricks, even the great Tyr. Tyr was now chained to the wall of Cyric's castle, used for the dark arts (for it needed blood and what better blood than that of a god)._

_While the Great Warrior was thinking about his dilemma, Tyr's horse Vancorr cantered towards the huge wooden doors of Ashgrad. Vancorr was a magical horse with the ability to look at the good of people, and he saw that this creature on the other side of the gate was not only good but also radiated magic._

_This was odd. Even there where still many creatures with magical abilities, there was no creature here or in Fearun that radiated and "injected" magic into its surroundings as she did… not since Her… Not since She decided to stop magic of her name from causing evil…_

_Every otherworldly creature in the city then turned there head towards Vancorr and knew they should open the barrier, even if it meant the end of the city. An acolyte of Tyr, knowing the horse for its virtues, opened the door and everyone saw what they wished for… even though she was weak… she was back… she was there…_

_She was hope in this dark tunnel. She was Mystra…_


	2. All Alone

All Alone

Arislan woke up suddenly, sweat on his forehead and a chill down his spine and then he understood… it was all a dream, well a nightmare. He tried to remember the source of his anguish with only images of his half-sister Veldra.

This was not a good sign as he had had no contact with her since his escape from the chaotic island of the elves, Evermeet. That day he was not looking at his younger sibling but at his love, at his forbidden love Estelle, a gold elf of such beauty and kindness that he fell in love with her the second she smiled at him. The problem with this was that she was of the gold elf family that overthrew the Moonflower dynasty that fateful day.

That was not the only problem. He and his family had lived in Evermeet for generations since the greatest elf-queen of all time Amlaruil had allowed all elf friends and half elves to live and visit the island of elves and the gold elves had disliked the idea ever since.

Gold elves believed in the superiority of elves, and especially of gold elves, over all other races in Faerun. Quite a few of them left with Lamruil to a more greener island in the north to start a new kingdom while others had thought it best to meet their creator in Arvandor than to move away. Those who stayed started to plot…

Millennia after millennia had passed since then and the magic of Mystra had disappeared and with her, the power of the moon elves. This had lead to gold elves gaining power and control over Evermeet and later to the coop against the Moonflower family and the genocide of all those who were not full elves.

Arislan Dhalahad sighed; he was now on the other side of Faerun, far away from his beloved in Evermeet and from his sister whom he had no idea where she was.

Veldra had been the result of the union of his father and a moon elf, whom he met after the death of Arislan's mother. Even though this was rare it was not unheard of. It was said that the Dhalahad family had always been joined to the elves in spirit more than any other elf-friend families, taking spouses from the elven kin. Rumors had it that elven blood flowed through those vein stornger than human, for even though they were mortal, they were long-lived among the elf-friend families.

She had her mother's misty grey eyes and, even at the young age of seven, would challenge everyone at anything with a smile on her face, just like their father. She was quick to laugh and play. And now… where would she be? Was she still alive? Will she survive where she is? Would she remember the brother who did not remember to get back home on time? Will she forgive him?

Ten years had passed since he first set his eyes on the burning rubble that was his house. But he could still remember what he felt as a youngster of fourteen staring at the mangled body of his once tall and proud father. He could still remember how someone took his hand and forced him into a ship, to leave the island forever, never to set eyes on his sister or lover again. He could still feel his tears burning his cheeks as he thought what he would do with no family, friends or money in the outlandish coastal town of Daggersford. He was alone.

He was later informed by a very reputable drunk that he was rescued by a half-elf. This nameless person gave the drunk a few gold coins to give him a bed for a week and a horse for this young man's travels. The drunk also told Arislan that this mysterious figure had mentioned that his sister had been captured by the new royal family, the Nimesins.

Estelle's family…

Arislan took the horse four days after he reached Daggersford and traveled north to Waterdeep, a city a shadow of its former glory where his only abilities were determination and wit. He was also a good ranger, but that was in his homeland where he knew the land and the animals like the back of his hand. He had to be careful and relearn all his skills to be able to survive in this hostile land. Here he did not know the edible from the poisonous.

He was hired, after many days, by a pompous lord who would send people to the deepest parts of this world to find lost artifacts of times gone when Mystra's magic was still in this land. He found quickly that he was good at finding pieces of the lost era that had contained magic, even in this strange land, and rose through the ranks until he was the first captain of a large fleet of mercenaries and treasure hunters.

His exodus from Evermeet had been ten winters ago and still the nightmare that had troubled him the night he knew of Veldra's capture haunted him even now. His nightmare was about the Nimesins doing foul things to her sister, innocent Veldra, to find out everything she knew about elf-friends, or just torturing her because she was not of pure blood. Not good enough.

While this was taking place Estelle would just be there, not stopping the agony of his sibling. Just looking at his sister as the rest of the Nimesins tortured her. The light of the candle-lit room playing on the contrasting faces of his sister and of her kidnapers: Moon elf versus Gold elf, the Moon face versus that golden one, Veldra versus Estelle. Estelle, his love from his past life… and then… she would change! Her body would contort to release that body of a demon of such evil that he would wake up every morning, sweat pouring down his forehead and reaching for his dagger feeling more tired than if he had rode all that night.

He heard clear steps moving towards his room, then a knock at the door with further steps leaving his room door. He decided he would go to the door and see if he could catch up with whoever had decided to come to knock at his door and then leave and give that person a good talk to about the importance of sleep. Instead he stooped down to find a piece of paper with a single sentence: "To Almorel you must go to find the Catalyst" the note did not have anything else but a word on the reverse of the paper, a word so little used now: "Elf-friend".

"Where is this place?" Arislan thought. During these ten years he had visited much of Faerun and had read many maps to know which ones were place names and which ones were not and he knew that that name was not of any town, city or village in Faerun.

He knew only one person with more knowledge about maps than him. During these ten years he had only told one person about elf-friends and how he was one and now he was going to talk to him.

The Voyage


	3. To the Ends of Faerun

To the Ends of Faerun

"What have you done?" a body appeared from a pile of books, a blank expression on his face as Arislan accused him. The body belonged to Lukslor, Arislan's one and only friend. Arislan had been staying at Lukslor's little cottage in the outskirts of Shadowdale for a couple of days while he thought of what to do next. His barging into his room/library was, therefore, nothing out of the ordinary; it was how he barged in.

Arislan had met Lukslor on one of his treasure-hunting expeditions early in his career. Lukslor was called one day at his house for historical information; he was one of the best historians in the Red Wizard owned part of Faerun. He had acquired most of that information through books and little on expedition and this showed, for even though Lukslor was a few years older than him, Arislan was the more traveled of the two.

While Arislan had been hardened by his career as a treasure-hunter and the lack of a home in ten years, Lukslor had had the comfort of a home and love of his family and his mentor Alassra Shentrantra. He was a tall, skinny man, if you would call him that, for his body had very few adult features apart from a sparse beard that would appear sometimes. His complexion was deathly white acquired through years in libraries, studying the history of men, elves and dwarves and little outdoors experiences. This was contrasted by his short, sleek black hair. Though his complexion reminded everyone of winter and death, his eyes told a different story. These were eyes full of wisdom beyond his time or age, so deep and magical. The first time Arislan met this historian, he was mystified by those eyes, eyes that held so much more than simple wisdom. It seemed that he belonged to a time of magic.

"What did I do?" murmured a confused Lukslor after a few seconds. He then went back to his pile of books. Arislan looked at him and gave him the scrap piece of paper the note was written on. The historian took the scrap piece of paper, looked at the note and then gave it back to him.

"Mmm! Interesting, I wonder who wrote this."

"You, of course," Arislan said looking at him to crack, "You are the only one in this land that knows who I am. Only you must have written the note and been able to get the note into the room, or told someone about my past." Lukslor looked shocked and then he began to get angry, his eyes, which were generally soft and understanding, began to harden and joy could not be found there.

"Well you must be wrong because I am not one for jokes or telling secrets which are not mine to tell," and with that he closed the book in his hand and walked out, stopping by the door. He looked back at Arislan and with a sigh grumbled.

"Oh! And breakfast in on the table. Try coming after you have figured out it wasn't me," and with that left the study room and headed to the dinning-room.

Now Arislan was worried. Lukslor was right, he would never lie about something that seemed so important, he was very bad at it and it just was not what he would do. If he was playing a trick, he would have told him already. He was not good at keeping his own secrets and many a game of chess would end with Lukslor telling his friend exactly what he was going to do and Arislan not being able to do anything about.

So Arislan, with his tail between his legs, approached the dinning room, slowly, step by painful step. He knocked on the heavy oak door and opened it standing there until Lukslor raised his head from his meal, his voice bellowed out for all the cottage to hear:

"Well, why are you standing there? Are you not hungry or do you not eat? Sit!" said the historian, his voice losing the anger and getting softer until he was smiling. Arislan sat and started his meal with a bowl of milk and a chunk of bread, his eyes never meeting those of his friend. There was silence for minutes, until Lukslor broke the mutually agreed silent.

"You do know that there were probably many people in the ship on which you left Evermeet that could recognize you where ever you are from your parents. It is not a stretch of the imagination that someone left the note for you and if it were an elf even easier, they can be so silent." He went for a fresh pot of tea and offered it to his friend. Arislan lifted his head and looked straight at Lukslor.

"I am deeply sorry about accusing you. It just came as a shock seeing that signature again, it had been a long time since I came by it and that was only because my father was teaching me how to write."

He remembered that day so well, 'you must only use this when in dire need, look at me son,' his father had to capture his attention again, Arislan had always been an outdoors person, not one for reading or writing. He closed the curtains of the windows where his son's sight was being distracted to, 'now, where were we, ah yes, the elf-friend signature. This signature is different for everyone who had done a great service to the fey race, but one thing remains the same, the word. Arislan! Get off your wardrobe and sit down, please, this is important. Now, the word, you may dress it up in so many ways, but one thing remains, it must be in elvish. No other language will do, no other spelling will matter. It must be Elf-friend and it must be elvish. Are you listening boy? Another thing you must remember is that you are bound to it the moment you read the signature. You will not be able to live properly again until you respond to it or you do whatever is written down.' He looked at his son again and sighed, 'go! Get out of my sight before I do something I might regret.' Arislan sighed…

That had been only hours before he returned to find his whole family either kidnapped or dead. The image of the signature had stayed in his mind as the last thing his father had tried to explain to him. He had told Lukslor this story countless of times and Lukslor had tried to find out more about this signature, but it was elusive. A thing mentioned when talking about elves and their friends, but nothing about why they were used and how to make it, this had been a secret kept between elf-friends and passed from generation to generation by mouth, not literature.

"Well, we can start by figuring out where this place is… what was it again? Almort? No, Almorel? Yes Almorel," Lukslor stood up and set towards the library, set to his new project. During the years he had known Arislan he had been getting restless, listening about the different places the mercenary had gone to in search of one or another artifact. He was trying to find any excuse to go on one of these adventures. So he must find as much as he could about this mysterious town or city and then convince Arislan to go and take him.

As Lukslor was busy with his research, Arislan began to feel happier and therefore start enjoying his favourite meal, breakfast. He had already finished his bread and milk and was already tempted by the grapes which, in his opinioned, had been lingering there for too long. He grabbed a bunch and stared savoring each one. While this was going on he poured himself another bowl of milk and reached for the cakes, trying to decide which one to pick. When this 'foreplay' was over he went to the larder and picked some cured ham and a sizeable piece of cheese. He then sat down and hacked away at the bread and cheese and ham until only the toughest part of the bread remained. When this ritual was finished, he felt so much better. Lukslore on the case and him not being the culprit had meant his anxiousness had left him and was replaced by cheeriness.

He then started towards Lukslor's room, whistling and smiling. His smile did leave him till he saw his friend waiting for him.

"So, how was breakfast?" he smiled, "I see the note did nothing to weaken your appetite, nor preoccupy you with what I would find."

"My dear friend," Arislan replicated his friend's smile and added, "you do know that I cannot function properly if I do not have a hearty breakfast. So, what did you find?"

"Well, our anonymous writer wants you to go to Almorel. Now there is nothing about any place existing now with that name…" at this Arislan slope his shoulders and resigned himself to a stupid search of the whole of the supracontinent known as Faerun to find this elusive place, "but I found a text which talks about there once being a place at the shore of the Lake of Mists with that name and if I am not incorrect, this note wants us to go to Telagrá."

Lukslor closed his book and moved towards the door while Arislan stood there assimilating all which he had heard. As Lukslor was about to leave, Arislan responded:

"Us?" Lukslor's head turned towards his friend.

"Of course us. You may need my assistance when we are there,"

"What with?" asked Arislan, whom by now had a huge smirk on his face.

"What with you ask! You may need help with things and translating old books and… and…" Arislan laughed at this last remark, "ok, ok. I've caught the itch. I'm dying to go on an adventure. Your love for them is contagious." Lukslor also smiled, "will you take your inexperience friend to the ends of Faerun?"

"Well… will you accept that there will probably be perils all the way there and back? Will you accept that we may be going on a wild goose chase and that all we may be coming back with is a miserable face and a few broken bones? Can you accept that you will have to live on the bare minimum and that there is no space in your travel luggage for a soft, warm bed?"

Lukslor had said a silent yes to all but the last question, to which he said quietly:

"Will I have room for a few books?" Arislan smiled at that and nodded his head in agreement. Lukslor smiled and then something started to gnaw at his brain.

"My parents! Goodness me, I'll have to tell them. They will not be pleased. They've never liked you and now you are taking me away…"

"I'm not doing that!" the adventurer interrupted.

"But that is what they will think. I will need to tell them something to be able to go there, but what could it be? Oh well, I'll think about it while I go there. I'll see you back here in an hour or so, you will probably hear the shouting first I think."

With that Lukslor left the cottage to head towards his family home, embedded in the thriving town of Shadowdale, leaving Arislan to think about supplies for two while noticing a fight between two very different people developing outside the cottage, on the road leading towards Shadowdale. He smirked knowing that one of those people was probably Lukslor.

… … …

What Arislan should have noticed was the eyes of someone in the house. The same eyes that were looking at his door while leaving the note. The person that was even now happier that Lukslor had decided to join him. The plan was being perfectly put to practice and those eyes left the room with a thought, _and then there were two…_


	4. The Third Traveler

The Third Traveler

"You will not be going anywhere with that… with that Wanderer!" said a booming voice that echoed through the room. The mouth of that voice belonged to a slightly plump middle-aged woman, furious at what her son was thinking of doing, "you want to go on a trip to who knows where to find something you are not prepared to tell us, which I think you yourself do not know, and you want us to give you our blessing! Are you crazy? I just can not speak to you at this moment! I can not even look at you!" she looked towards the door and then pointed at her husband, "you! You talk to _your _son, see if you can get more sense out of him than I have."

And with that she left the room, slamming the door on her way out. As soon as the footsteps lightened, Lukslor's father smiled.

"So, young Arislan has finally convinced you to go with him on one of his adventures. Good for you."

"Actually it was me who volunteered," replied Lukslor, now more confident that mother was not around. His relationship with his mother was odd.

He was an only child, for his mother could not have anymore children, and even the one she did have was a miracle. This had meant that his mother had always been protective of her son and by logic disliked the character of Arislan, a lonesome spirit who did a lot of travel through the most inhospitable areas.

Cattrica Brea's over protectiveness (for that was the name of his mother) had gotten out of hands on many occasions, such as when Lukslor decided to move out of the family house in Shadowdale to move to a cottage in a village in the middle of the forest where he could concentrate harder on the mysteries of the past or when the other mothers would talk behind the Brea household about their bachelor son. But even with her bouts of anger, Lukslor loved his mother very much and equally loved his more understandable father.

This was why he had to go these three miles from his cottage; he wanted their approval, well, more a word of encouragement to help him steady the doubts that were now ebbing in and out of his mind, each time the problems outweighing the advantages. He would be at times hundred of miles from any civilized land and would have to cross at one time or other mountain ranges bigger than any he had seen, let alone crossed; he knew very little about living in the wild and he did not know how to defend himself or help Arislan if need be. All these problems and more had been surfaced by his mother, who had rejected the idea the moment she had heard the name Arsilan muttered into the conversation and had found very logical excuses for it.

His father noticed the doubtful gleam in his son's eyes and said:

"Do you know that when I was your age I also decided to see part of this marvelous land? I went south though, not to the east. I got as far as the river Arkhen, deep in what was known as Sembia, though I was thinking of crossing the sea to get to Gulthmere forest to see the legendary fey creatures of the lost ages and even try to spot that most elusive creature of them all, elves, but it never happened, you see I met someone at the northern bank of the river and could go no further. She had captured me with her grace and smile, even though she can be worse than harpies."

"What has this to do with my trip?" interrupted his son.

"Well boy, the trip, even though it was only to Sembia, made a difference in my life. It made me the man I am now. I met all kind of people and especially women." At this his father, Lord Sebastien Brea, smiled. "You are getting past the age for starting a family and who knows what special lady you may find through your journey. So do not worry about your mother, she'll get used to not having you to shout at," and with that, they both smiled, "and don't worry about being nervous, it's normal. This is a very big and important change in your life and hopefully for the better. You have our blessing and I will give you some coin. Now go, I'll find your mother and tell her you are going, she…"

At this the doors opened again and from them came two figures, one smaller and plumper than the other but both women.

"I have come to a decision!" pronounced his mother, "you will be able to go on your adventure…"

"Thank the lord! The 'mighty' one has given you permission," Sebastien formed a mock face and gave his son small pushes towards the door, "Hurry son! You are able to go!" both of them exploded into laughter, though it didn't last.

"However," Cattrica said, not taking the bait from her husband, "you will be accompanied by someone other than that thing you call a friend. You will be traveling with Lady Alassra."

Until that moment, all attention had been focused on what Cattrica had to say, so very little attention had been drawn to the other figure that had entered alongside her. This body belonged to the Mistress Shentrantra, mentor to Lukslor from the tender age of four. Though everyone in the town addressed her as Lady Alassra, she was also known as Alassra the Hag behind her back. This was because even though she had the body of a thirty-something woman, she was, seemed and had knowledge of someone who had roamed and traveled through the lands of Toril for centuries, even millennia.

She was not a native and had arrived to Shadowdale on a wet and windy night, knocking on the door of the Brea mansion…

_The door had been answered by a young Sebastien, 'hello there! What can I do for you?' 'Hello there young Sebastien, I have come to see your wife,' the young lord gave the middle-aged woman a look of total confusion and then asked, 'why so?' the mysterious woman stared at the boy for a few seconds before her reply came, 'you see I have seen the arrival of a child to your household and my vision told me to sought out your home and tell you of my prediction' at this Sebastien lowered his head with a pang of hurt. Cattrica, during her engagement to the future lord of the Brea mansion, had had an accident which had destroyed any possibility of her ever having children. This had caused a huge upheaval in the Brea household, for Sebastien was the only child of an only child and so the future of the Brea legacy lay in the hands of Sebastien and his barren wife-to-be. This had ended with the couple marrying in secret, with no one to stop them. Even though Sebastien was very happy with his wife and would not change her for anyone else, he was unhappy of being a childless man. Lady Cattrica was equally distressed, her whole body, mind and soul were made to enjoy having children to love and to cherish. 'Who are you to come to this house and make such claim? My wife cannot have the child you envision' ' I do not come to hurt or insult anyone, I am here only to narrate my prophecy to you and your wife.' _

_Hearing the concern in the woman's voice, the lord stopped his attack and told her of the incident that led to Cattrica not being able to have children. While he was narrating the painful story to her, he offered his guest some wine and took her cloak from her, for the Brea fortune had been withdrawn from the Lord when he refused a concubine for producing an heir. After he had told his story of woe, the woman stared into the fire for a few seconds and answered. 'Well, this is very interesting. I will start with introducing myself, I am Shentrantra. Your story has touched me, but I stick by my prophecy, you will have a boy and very soon.' Sebastien looked at the mystical woman, never has he seen anyone as sure of anything as she was at that moment. She was also an odd traveler. It was not the way she dressed, but the way she acted, the way she would talk as if she was not, and never was, a mortal._

_After this, Sebastien had agreed to take Shentrantra to see her wife who by this time had put on her dressing gown and was on her way down the stairs, where she met the mystic for the first time. She greeted her and received a bow from Shentrantra. 'My love,' started the young lord, 'this lady has come to tell us of a premonition she has seen. It concerns us having a boy. I told her…' he stopped at seeing the reaction on Cattrica's face. It was not shock nor anger, but a smile. _

'_How did you know this? Who told you?' asked the lady to her visitor. Shentrantra smiled, pointing up to the ceiling, and answering in a way that was to become common to anyone who knew her, 'my Lady from above…' _

_After she finished the rest of the prophecy, she got up from the chair and before reaching the door, turned and said, 'I will tell you more about my roll here in the morning. Could you pray tell me where I could find an inn to rest and dry these clothes?'_

_At this, Sebastien woke from the dream-like stage he had been since he had introduced this sage to his wife, 'you need not go anywhere. We can accommodate you here, it is the least we can do after the good news you have brought into this household.' Sebastien led her to one of the many available rooms…_

And that is how she came to be in this household and that was all Lukslor knew about the prophecy. When Lukslor was born, she took it upon herself to tutor this boy through the history, languages and other aspects of this land and, even though more than a score of years had past since she had reached this town, she had aged not a single year, not a single wrinkle.

"Why must she come? I am sure she has better and more interesting things to do than accompany two young men on a goose chase." Lukslor said to his Mother.

"I will not hear another word against this. I do not want you to be in the middle of the wilderness alone."

"But I won't be alone." Interjected the Son.

"Worst than being alone! That ruffian will probably get himself into trouble and get you into it as well. You would not survive a single day without someone's help," replied the Mother, "and do not try to convince me that you are able to cope in the wilderness, the closest you have come to coping with wilderness is weeding your garden."

"And whose fault is that?" whispered the Father in the Son's defense.

"What did you say Sebastien?"

"Nothing dear," and that was all the contribution the Father (or anyone other than the Mother and the Son) for the rest of the battle of wits and voices.

The winner of this battle, if you had not guessed, was indeed the Mother, also known as Lady Cattrica.

When he conceded defeat, Lukslor said his goodbyes to his parents and talked to Lady Alassra about arranging supplies and a place to meet tomorrow to start the adventure. After all this, the young man got on his horse and made his way home in the middle of the night, thinking of what he would say to his friend about their new companion.

He reached the cottage and there was Arislan, waiting for his best friend. Lukslor groaned and got of his horse slowly, for the journey and the 'battle' had taken much of his energy and concentration, looked at his friend and mutter,

"We are going to need extra supplies; we have an extra hand for our adventure."

"Who's that?" replied Arislan.

"Well, you know my tutor?" and with that Arislan burst into a fit of laughter. He knew the lady, and knew her age. Not a traveling age.

"Don't worry my friend! I am sure that she will get bored of our travels and will probably go back to the warmth of her house," said the Treasure hunter, his smile not disappearing till he saw Lukslor with a somber look on his face.

"She will not give up. That woman is more strong headed than my mother. If she wants to come with us she will, even if we had started weeks ago. No, the only thing we can do is let her come and she may come useful to us."

"Maybe, my friend. Maybe." And with that they said goodnight to each other and went to their rooms to rest for the coming weeks.


End file.
